


inkwells

by ElasticElla



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Anxiety, Gen, M/M, Wells-centric, background ships: indra/marcus/thelonious & miller/monty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Wells would be the first to admit that he likes order, predictability. It keeps things manageable, easier to interact with the world when he feels like he already knows half the script.





	

Wells would be the first to admit that he likes order, predictability. It keeps things manageable, easier to interact with the world when he feels like he already knows half the script. It's part of why he couldn't follow his father into politics- too many unknowns and too much anxiety. His father wasn't particularly pleased about his degree gathering dust, but he did let him stay in the house for another few years to complete an apprenticeship.

Thelonious was certainly hoping he'd drop said apprenticeship and get his masters or doctors, but over the years he stopped dropping hints. Indra and Marcus were definitely helpful for that change, Indra saying how nice it was that his son turned into an independent entrepreneur and Marcus saying with the three of them dating, he needed Wells to present a strong family unit to keep the governor’s seat. 

So now he has InkWells, well, sixty percent of the business anyways, he's still paying off his father's loan. It's _his_ though, and as much as he enjoyed learning from and working with Lincoln, it's exciting- less and more stressful- to have his own place. And as much fun as New York was, he likes being back in Connecticut. Arcadia's only a half hour drive to Hartford, so he can easily make Tuesday night family dinners and impromptu gatherings. More pertinently for the business's survival, it's practically on one college's campus and a short walk from two others, keeping him supplied with a steady flow of customers. 

Most shops on Mir Lane succeed, Wells is used to his walk from the parking lot being Cece's Cafe, then a small unnamed secondhand bookstore, and then his tattoo parlor. (Across the way is an oversized Unity Bank.) Only, the bookstore had been boarded up weeks ago; Wells still isn't sure how the nameless shop stayed open for over three years, and strongly suspects it was a front. And today, for the first time in two years, his walk to work is different, bunches of flowers lining the new store's front. The tiger lilies are on his part of the sidewalk, and he sends a small glare up to the sign- _B.Blooms_. 

Wells is tempted to complain, but if he doesn't head in now, he'll be late to open. Unlocking and turning on the lights, Wells supposes it _is_ the first day his neighbor's moved in- perhaps the flowers were only there temporarily. Yes, that must be it, he decides, doubtless if it were a permanent thing, theft would become rampant. Wells takes a moment to be grateful his merchandise isn't easily stolen, and checks today's schedule. There's a touch up, touch up, thistle, open, belly button piercing, open, a quote, a dragonfly, and open till close. 

Raven will come in after her classes, and he'll probably give her the piercing. While Raven is an ideal employee- responsible, motivated, and prompt- her tattoo work is far too random, sometimes incredible and sometimes… well, sometimes Wells fixed it up after. (Wells is sure with proper instruction she could become great, but Raven always laughed it off saying she studied actual rocket science, didn't mind mostly being the receptionist.)

The morning passes fast, Raven coming in with a burrito as Wells finishes telling the thistle person to keep it covered until evening. He hands them the pamphlet too, it's customary, and given the person hasn't stopped looking at their shoulder regardless of the solid covering, they're a perfect example of why everyone gets the 'how to take care of your new tattoo' pamphlet. 

Once the door chimes shut behind them, Raven unwraps her burrito, “Dude, I texted you if you wanted anything.” 

Wells pulls out his phone, and sure enough there are two missed texts from Raven. “Sorry-”

Raven shakes a hand at him, “You should get some fresh air anyways, aren't you free for the next two hours?” 

Wells grins, “You're okay doing the piercing alone?” 

Raven rolls her eyes, “More than, go-” The door chimes, and Raven lights up, “Monty! Man of the hour, get Wells to go outside.” 

“Guys,” Monty says with wide eyes, “did you know there's a flower shop _right next to you_?”

“Monty,” Wells groans as Raven cackles, “what's the rule?” 

Monty rolls his eyes, rolling his head as well, “Psssh, I'm _barely_ high. I could totally drive like this.” 

Wells barely refrains from pinching the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Last time Monty was high at InkWells, he decided to switch around the translations for some Chinese characters and it took Wells a week to notice they were no longer in alphabetical order. Since then, there's been a ban- which until today- Monty was good about keeping to. 

“C'mon, let's go to Cece's,” Wells says, and Monty grins wide. 

“Awesome.” 

“Have fun boys!” Raven says, adding before Wells can, “And yes, I'll call you if anything comes up.” 

“You're the best,” Wells says, and Monty grabs his hand, skipping out. 

“Waffles, waffles and syrup, waffles and syrup and fries,” he sings, and not a single person gives him any looks. Wells wonders how people react to Monty outside of college towns, but then they're at Cece's and Wells isn't sure what he wants to eat. 

Cece herself comes to take their order, and after Monty points to half the things on the menu, he gives Wells a nod. 

“We can share.” 

Wells chuckles, waiting for Cece to leave before asking, “How much _did_ you smoke?” 

“I didn't get the biophysicist position-”

“Shit I'm sorry man.”

Monty shrugs, “I don't have to worry about a 'random' drug test anymore so…” 

“Still,” Wells says as Anya drops off their drinks, a sharp nod to Wells' thanks, and Monty's staring at the doorway with wide eyes. 

“He's so pretty,” Monty breathes, and turning, Wells instantly wants to agree. There are two guys, and one of them is just _obnoxiously_ gorgeous with a white lily tucked behind his ear. He has thick curls and a cracked smile, and he's touchy-feely enough with his friend that it's probably a decent bet that they're dating. 

Monty must come to the same conclusion, sighing. “He looks like he could bench press me.” 

Wells turns back to Monty with a raised eyebrow, while his friend wasn't that heavy- and then he realizes Monty was looking at the flowerless man. 

“What happened with uh, Jones?” 

Monty's nose wrinkles, his expression lifting when their food arrives. 

“He wanted to get serious,” Monty says around a stacked bite of waffle and jam and pancake and syrup. Wells goes for the scrambled eggs, has long since learned not to look at Monty's plate if he wants to keep his appetite. 

“The horror,” Wells can't help but tease. Men had a habit of tripping over themselves to fall into Monty's lap, if Monty wanted to replace him within the hour he probably could. 

“I just feel bad,” Monty confesses to his coffee. Meeting his eyes, he adds, “He said he loved me. I just want someone who _won't_ fall in love with me.” 

Monty looks a little too vulnerable for the first words Wells wants to say about how rough it must be for everyone to love you. Wells feels for Monty's exes, he does- Monty's easy to be consumed by, for the first month they knew each other Wells would have married him if he asked. (He didn't of course, and the crush went away, ironically enough when he did Monty's first tattoo.)

“Chin up,” Wells says instead, “hey, maybe next time you'll be the one that falls in love.”

Monty laughs, dipping a piece of bacon into the syrup. “And then I can complain from the other side.” 

Wells nods seriously, “Your complaints have been rather redundant lately.” 

Monty snorts, “I'll work on that.” 

Somehow the two of them finish their small mountain of food, and with full bellies, they split. Wells back to work and Monty to the paid six month study he was doing. Wells gets back five minutes before the Vonnegut quote person, and Raven mentions a few of next week's spots got scheduled.

The quote takes longer than anticipated, the person changing their mind on the font, and Raven prepped the dragonfly person. _That_ person wanted not one dragonfly but a line of them, going down their spine and getting smaller and smaller until there was just a speck above their tailbone. Wells usually would have been annoyed at a design unexpectedly taking an extra two hours, but it came out beautifully and they did agree to be photographed for his examples book. 

So while it may only be eight when he gets back to his apartment, Wells is exhausted and crashes, only just remembering to set an alarm. 

Tuesday morning comes hot and wet, rain pounding and wind whipping hard enough to try and steal his umbrella. Raven doesn't work Tuesdays, and with the weather there aren't any walk-ins, just the scheduled tattoos and piercings. The day drags, and Wells texts everyone, even Marcus, in an attempt to alleviate the boredom between customers. Texting Marcus actually has a purpose, to check if he should bring anything to dinner. His dad is notoriously slow about replying to texts, and Indra always says not to bring anything or gives him a list of at least ten items. (Mbege and Griffin actually want to have Conversations beyond reminiscing about their undergrad, and Wells should have expected texting so many people would end poorly and with his stomach in knots.)

Tuesday evening is cold and wet, though the rain is thankfully lighter, and the wind doesn't upset the tray of chocolate chip cookies he bought. It's designed to look homemade, and Indra at least will get a kick out of it. The night's going well up until Monopoly, and Wells should have known the game would go poorly. His father's never been the best of losers, and can't help but mention how well Wells is doing, how much better he _could_ be doing in the real world. 

Tonight's spiel is centered around franchises, and no matter how unsubtly Marcus tries to bring conversation to anything else, nothing sticks. Wells concedes conversational defeat, wishing he could be smoking, and settling for another glass of red wine. 

“I made your bed up,” Indra says, and Wells takes a huge swallow as his father moves onto the possibility of an international franchise. 

Two hours, and a few more bottles of wine between the four of them later, Wells wins the game. 

Winning, or all the wine- probably the wine- emboldens him to finally say, “I'm happy Dad. InkWells is doing great, and I don't want to expand it.” 

His Dad's eyebrows jump, “Oh, I thought… I'm glad you're happy.” 

It's sincere if not enthusiastic, and maybe next Tuesday will be easier. Wells gets ready for bed in a haze, the alcohol helping him fall asleep once his head hits the pillow. It also means he wakes up a few hours later, sober-ish and wide awake. He can't remember his schedule for the day, almost reaches for his phone, but he doesn't, knowing he'll be awake for at least two hours if he does. (It still takes thirty minutes of staring at his old ceiling, wondering what happened to other governor's kids that have stayed in this room before he falls back asleep.)

Wednesday comes with a hangover, he nearly trips over the new neighbor's outside flowers and Raven brings coffee like the angel she is. He gets lost in the repetitive motions of coloring in a large wave, and by noon he feels like new again, if extraordinarily hungry. As thanks for the coffee, he gets subs for both of them, and nearly drops them, tripping over the flowers _again_. Glaring up at the cheerful _B.Blooms_ sign Wells decides he'll give them a visit if they're open after he closes. The rest of the day passes well, Anya comes in for another piercing and a college kid comes in to get a drunken tattoo fixed. (A Jake to a pair of crows that aren't his best work due to the shading the previous lettering required, but still rather good.)

Raven agrees to close up, has a text book and neither expect any tattoo walk-ins on a Wednesday night. Wells frowns at the bunch of carnations half in front of his shop and half in front of the flower shop, toeing it over a few inches. Before he can lose his nerve, Wells heads inside. 

The shop instantly overwhelms him: there are bunches of flowers everywhere with seemingly no rhyme or reason, even some flowers seeming to be in multiple places. It's complete chaos, and the scent is strange as well- obviously floral but changing every time he moves. 

“Hi! Welcome to B.Blooms, can I help you find anything?” 

It's the overly attractive guy that was at Cece's, and Wells feels his annoyance wilt, awkwardness replacing it. 

“Um yeah, something that goes with blue walls? In a vase?”

He smiles, cracking his knuckles, “Cool. I'm Bellamy by the way.” 

“Wells,” he says as Bellamy starts grabbing flowers. “I have the shop next door actually.” 

“Shit, howdy neighbor,” he says with a quick grin. He's only grabbing one of each flower, and Wells is pretty sure that a pretty face just conned him into the ugliest bouquet ever- but then Bellamy grabs a bunch of baby's breath and somehow together it's beautiful, heavy on the cool colors. 

“So, uh, what's with the flowers outside?” Wells asks. 

Bellamy shrugs, grabbing a vase, “Incentive to come in. Carnations are my cheapest flower, and it's worth handing out two dozen for all the people that stop.” 

Wells frowns, “Isn't that encouraging theft?” 

Bellamy laughs, “Your total's $20.”

“Thanks,” Wells says, handing over a twenty, “welcome to the neighborhood.” 

“Thank _you_ ,” Bellamy says, almost flirtatiously, and Wells needs to get out before he says something silly. 

“Right um, I'll see you around,” he says, walking out probably a little too quickly to be casual. 

Wells texts Monty immediately, fingers crossed that he's free and wants to get high because his nerves are ticking and it's only a matter of time before he over-analyzes their five minute interaction. Monty agrees to meet at his apartment- Wells tends to have more snack foods and his couch is way comfier. 

Twenty minutes later, Wells is exhaling and nearly pouting at how perfect the bouquet looks in his living room. 

“What do you think he meant though- who says thank you to thank you anyways?” 

“You,” Monty says with a giggle, and Wells realizes it's totally true with a deeper frown. 

“Why don't you just ask him out?” Monty asks, “Worst case he says no.” 

“Uh uh,” Wells says quickly, “ _worst_ case is he laughs at me and I can never walk by his little flower shop again and I have to start parking three blocks down to come from the other side of the road. And _then_ he comes into my place with his super buff maybe boyfriend and they get corny awful matching tattoos, and Raven delights in my misfortune.” 

“Dude, Raven would never delight in your misfortune… not till like at least a week later.” 

Wells throws a pillow at Monty, which tragically misses and Monty doesn't even have the decency to flinch. 

“How about you ask out your flower boy, and if he says no, I'll bring you sympathy milkshakes for a week,” Monty offers. 

“Deal,” Wells says automatically and Monty grins. Wells sighs, taking another hit, he'd done plenty of things he didn't want to do in the first place for Monty's fabulous milkshakes, really asking out his latest crush was practically a gift. 

Thursday morning Wells leaves his apartment early, speech in mind. He'd already recited it to the toaster oven, the bouquet, and the mirror, twice. He was going to go into the store and say, 'Good morning Bellamy. Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?' 

He has the first part out, and is halfway to the register when he notices Bellamy isn't alone, and the buff dude from before is holding Bellamy's hand. 

The second sentence dies in his throat, and Bellamy smiles up at him. “Morning Wells, here for more flowers already?” 

The other guy seems half asleep, drops the hand to wrap his arm around Bellamy's waist, and Wells swallows. “Um yes. I wanted to put some next door.” 

“Miller, you got the register?” 

He nods, and while Wells wouldn't trust him, he isn't about to tell Bellamy he shouldn't visit his pride and joy. 

Wells unlocks and flicks the lights on, mentally thanking Raven for properly cleaning up even though he's told her a million times when she closes she doesn't have to. 

“Welcome to InkWells,” he says, “any flower ideas?” 

Bellamy smiles slowly, walking in a small circle. “Yeah, a few.” 

“Cool,” and then because Wells' filter is apparently disabled early in the morning without coffee, he asks, “So Miller works with you?”

Bellamy smiles, “Yeah, he's my partner. He's between jobs right now, so he's begrudgingly learning how to put flowers together.” 

Wells nods, “That kind of stability must be nice.”

“Yeah, he's been pretty relaxed in his job search,” Bellamy says. “Alright, flowers?” 

“I um have to open up shop now actually, can I get them in a few hours?” 

“Sure, have a good day Wells,” Bellamy says. 

“Thanks, you too,” he answers, waiting until the man's gone to collapse on the waiting couch. Monty _totally_ owes him multiple milkshakes. 

He ends up sending Raven to pick up the flowers with some cash when he gets caught up in a watercolor tattoo as he doesn't want Bellamy to think he totally flaked on buying whatever bouquet he made. It's definitely not because he doesn't want to see him and _Miller_ cuddling up behind the counter. (He knows his thoughts are petty and ridiculous, but he wants one day of being petty and dramatic about it, and then he'll be done with his ill fated crush.)

The flowers are simpler this time, all cardinal flowers, but just as gorgeous and fitting as the first bouquet. Monty whistles when he sees them, coming over around two with three milkshakes. Raven's goes in the fridge for when she's done piercing, and Wells happily and deeply sips the delicious cookie dough goodness. (There are other ingredients, there always are with Monty, but it's better not to ask.) 

“Awfully pretty flowers, you sure he said no?” Monty asks. 

Wells rolls his eyes, “Yes. Miller is his partner.”

Monty frowns, eyes on the bouquet, “Did you ask for those then?” 

“No,” Wells says slowly, “why?” 

Monty's nose twitches, “They're just- they mean beauty, they're kind of a romantic choice.”

“It's just cause they look good in here,” Wells says, “I'm sure he doesn't know-”

Wells cuts himself off, and Monty huffs out a small laugh. 

“Whatever, I have to prep a design. Wanna do dinner?” 

“I do!” Raven calls out, and Wells winces, hoping she's not mid-piercing. 

Monty grins, “Pizza night? Pizza night!”

“Three toppings max,” Wells says, “and at least one plain pizza.” 

Monty agrees, heading out, and Wells starts re-sketching the design. 

The tattoo goes well, the pizza night goes well, even Tuesday night with the family goes well. Everything's well Wells, and while he's a little disappointed it's only Miller working when he replaces his cardinal flowers bouquet, he's still content. Weeks pass, and Wells falls into a new, slightly modified pattern that includes getting flowers and more frequent pizza nights with Monty and Raven. He still sometimes trips over the carnations that are outside, but he doesn't get annoyed by the flowers anymore, simply moves them back in front of B.Blooms. He's even friendly with Bellamy and Miller, though not quite pizza night friend level, more possible random party friend level. 

Everything's predictable again, but then Bellamy shakes it all up when Wells is picking up his weekly bunch of cardinal flowers. 

“So since Miller and Monty are going out tonight, wanna see a movie?” 

Wells nearly drops the flowers, “Wha- you're, um I mean, I didn't know you and Miller were in an open relationship?” 

Bellamy raises an eyebrow, “Not for a few years now. We're business partners and friends.”

“Oh,” Wells says, a hot flush burning in his cheeks, “uh yeah, I'd love to see a movie.” 

Bellamy grins, “And just to be clear, this would be a date.” 

Wells nods, but Bellamy keeps going, “It may involve kissing and swooning and-”

And before Bellamy can complete what's sure to be a long list of potential side effects, Wells leans over the counter and kisses him.


End file.
